Love And Felicity
by Amarin Rose
Summary: Pairing: Jim-Blair Summary: A furry friend enters our guys lives and unknowingly helps them get together. Chapters 1, 2 & 5 are safe for the gen-only crowd.
1. A Felicitous Arrival

**A Felicitous Arrival**

****

* * *

Blair stopped at the top of the stairs, seeing a small wicker basket in front of #307. And it was…moving?

Blair picked up the basket, curiosity driving him to pull back the blanket covering it as soon as the woven container was in his hands. Blair gasped when he saw what was inside. Two big green eyes stared up at him from a whiskered, button-nosed, feline face. "Mrreor?" came the soft mew from the cat that was curled up in a soft ball of orange and white striped fur.

"Aww, how cute. Hi, kitty," Blair said, scratching behind the feline's ears.

The cat purred in appreciation.

Blair looked around. "I wonder who left you here?" He shrugged. "Well, I'm pretty sure Jim is going to make me give you away, but you can stay the night." He moved the basket into the crook of his arm and pulled out his keys, unlocking the door and setting the basket on the floor. He pulled off the blanket and tipped the basket over slightly. "Here, kitty, go explore."

The cat simply stepped out of the basket before it started to rub around Blair's ankles, determined to endear itself to the curly-haired man.

Blair's heart melted as the cat purred and stretched between his feet, and he decided then and there that the cat stayed. He would just have to convince Jim to let him keep it. Blair sat down on the couch, and the cat obediently followed him, hopping up gracefully to settle beside his thigh. Blair absently reached down and began stroking its back. "Well, if you're going to stay with me, you need a name." He studied it for a minute then came to a startling revelation. "I don't even know if you're male or female yet. How can I name you?"

Blair laughed at himself for not thinking of it earlier and picked the cat up, looking between its legs. "Ah, you're a girl, huh?"

The cat meowed plaintively, wanting down from its awkward position. Blair obliged and sat the cat in his lap. "So, what should I…" he trailed off as he heard the sound of Jim's key in the door.

Jim was surprised to walk in the door and find his roommate holding a cat. He walked over and looked down at the animal, brow furrowed. "Chief, where did you get this cat?"

"I found it in a basket on our doorstep," Blair said.

Jim looked at the way his Guide was cuddling the cat and sighed. He just **knew** Blair was going to try and convince him to keep the cat. "I take it that you want to keep it?"

Blair smiled slightly and gave Jim his best 'puppy-dog eyes.' He picked up the cat, protectively hugging it to his chest. "Yes, I really do, Jim."

Jim shook his head in surrender. "Fine, Sandburg. You can keep the cat, but **you** are the one who's going to care for it." With that, he went into the kitchen to grab a beer.

Blair and the cat just looked at each other. "Well, looks like you're staying, cat. Now, what to call you?"

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Jim asked, handing a bottle of beer to his partner.

"A girl."

Taking note of how the cat was cuddled in his partner's lap, purring like a motorboat, Jim said, "How about Felicity? She sure **looks** happy."

Blair blinked, looked down at the cat in his lap, and then nodded slowly. "Yeah, that works." He picked up the newly-named feline and kissed her on her nose. "Welcome to your new home, Felicity."


	2. Felicity: Feline, Female, Feared

**Felicity: Feline, Female – Feared**

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* * *

Blair opened the door and threw his keys in the basket, grabbing the sack from the pet store out of the hallway. After Jim had said Felicity could stay, he'd realized he needed to get some things for her – food, a collar, a litter box and litter. While at the pet store he'd grabbed some food and water dishes; he'd picked up a catnip mouse as well, passing over the brightly colored balls with bells in them, as he knew they would drive Jim nuts.

His eyebrows climbed up into his hairline as he saw Jim. The Detective was taking a nap on the couch, one hand curled around Felicity, who was taking her own nap on his chest.

"And he's only putting up with her for me?" Blair said quietly. "Yeah, right."

Chuckling, he went to the kitchen to set up Felicity's next meal, leaving his roommate and **their** pet to sleep.

Half an hour later, Jim and Felicity were finally starting to wake up, the cat's nose twitching as she caught scent of the recently-poured food. Eyes blinking open and ears perking up, she jumped off of her perch on Jim's chest and headed straight for the dish of food on the kitchen floor.

Blair chuckled as he saw her dive snout first into the pile of brown pellets, purring in satiation as she munched.

Jim yawned and, heaving himself up from the couch, walked over to the lean against the pillar. He watched Felicity for a moment before turning to Blair. "I see you picked up a few things for the furball," he said dryly.

Blair smirked. "Don't even, Big Guy. I saw the two of you napping together. Guess it's just the Jaguar in you, huh, Felix?"

Jim growled, very reminiscent of his Spirit Guide, and stalked into the kitchen to grab himself another beer.

At that moment, Felicity finished her repast and sat up, licking her whiskers. Seeing Blair, she padded over and rubbed up against his ankles, purring her thanks for the meal.

Leaning down to scratch behind her marmalade-colored ears, Blair chuckled. "You're welcome, Felicity."

Soon the feline got tired of being petted and scampered off to the living room. She got very involved with batting at the fringe of the afghan hanging on the back of the couch.

Jim chuckled and gestured with his beer bottle towards the happy cat. "Guess it's true what they say: anything not nailed down is a cat toy."

Blair mock-frowned, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Yeah, yeah. Just you wait, Big Guy."

Raising one eyebrow, Jim asked, "Wait for what, Chief?"

"Wait until the day when you're coming out of the shower, and she thinks your balls would be fun to play with," Blair said, a malicious smile on his face.

Jim cringed and protectively covered his crotch. "And that, right there, is why I don't like fighting females. They don't just go for the jugular, they like to emasculate you first."

Blair just laughed.


	3. Deep Thoughts And Playful Antics

**Deep Thoughts And Playful Antics**

* * *

**Bat!**

**Bat! Bat!**

Jim stifled a chuckle, knowing that if he startled Felicity, the cat would stop. And he was enjoying the show.

**Bat! Bat! Bat!**

The show, of course, being Felicity batting at Blair's hair. His partner had fallen asleep on the couch while grading papers, and his shoulder-length mane of curls hung over the arm of the couch. And Felicity had turned said mane into a cat toy.

_Anything not nailed down._ He smirked, remembering his words to his partner a few weeks ago when the cat had first shown up. He stubbornly shoved Blair's rebuttal to the back of his mind, determined not to think about it.

It was cute, how even asleep, Blair seemed to be aware of the feline playing with his hair – and didn't mind. Blair had actually rolled slightly so that more of his hair hung over the couch arm, which pleased Felicity to no end.

_I wish I could do that,_ the thought crept unbidden into Jim's mind.

_No, no I don't,_ he told himself.

_Yeah, right,_ that sarcastic little voice volleyed back. _You want to touch his hair. You want to touch his hair, his lips, his dic–_

_NO! No, I don't._ But the words sounded feeble even in his own mind.

_Okay, maybe you don't._

Wary after all the time that voice had spent trying to get him to admit to his feelings, he asked, "I don't?" not even aware he'd spoken aloud.

_And you definitely don't want Felicity getting her paws on your jewels – _Jim gulped and winced as Blair's rebuttal came charging to the forefront of his mind like a freight train –_ but I bet you wouldn't mind if Blair got his hands – or something else – on them._

Luckily – or unluckily, as that little voice seemed to think – at that moment Blair started to wake up, signaling the end of Jim's internal conflict.

"Hummm… Wha?" he asked, yawning hugely. He tried to rise from the couch and was stopped short by Felicity's clawed grip on a hank of his hair. "Ow! Huh?"

Shaking off his not-innocent-by-any-means thoughts about his partner's naked body, Jim chuckled. "It seems our pet feline doesn't want to let go of her new toy, Chief."

Blair shot him an uncomprehending look. "New toy?"

"Your hair, Darwin." Jim gestured at the curly lock that Felicity was now chewing on.

Blair craned his neck, managing to catch sight of the cat out of the corner of his eye. "Oh, man! Why did she have to fixate on my hair? She's getting cat spit and tuna breath all over it." He reached down and started trying to disentangle his hair from her clawed grip, not meeting with much success.

"The price you pay for having long hair." Jim shrugged. "Guess my receding hairline is finally an advantage."

Blair huffed and yanked harder on the hank of hair that Felicity was still hanging onto. "Yeah, I guess so," he grunted. "A little **help** here, man?"

Jim chuckled and reached down, deft fingers pulling out stubborn claws and finally releasing Blair from his feline imprisonment.

"Thanks, man," Blair said, not hiding the relief in his voice.

"No problem, Chief," Jim said, thinking, _I'd do a whole lot more to see that smile on your face._

That traitorous voice was back. _So, you like his smile, hmm? Imagine how he'd look, flushed and panting underneath you as you–_

_Shut up! I do **not** have a thing for my best friend._

Watching as Blair brought Felicity up into his lap to pet her, Jim swore he could hear that little voice saying, _Yeah, right._ He had a sinking feeling that he hadn't heard the last of it.


	4. Catnip Confessions

**Catnip Confessions**

* * *

He really should have expected this.

Jim had always acted funny around Felicity's catnip mouse. He'd thought the Sentinel just didn't like the smell.

He couldn't have **been** more wrong.

But, to get this metaphorical train back on its metaphorical track… The mouse had been clawed to ribbons, not helped by the fact that its covering was faux silk, easily torn apart by sharp claws. Blair had decided to make his own catnip 'mouse' out of an old handkerchief. All he needed to do was buy some dry catnip.

Unfortunately – or fortunately, as the case had turned out to be – the smallest bag he could find of the stuff was eight ounces. He didn't really need that much for one 'mouse' but figured he could always use it later when this 'mouse' got shredded.

And Jim had come home right when he was putting everything away. The opened bag of loose catnip had been lying out on the kitchen table. The windows had been opened, allowing a cool spring breeze to blow through the apartment, wafting over the catnip and bringing the scent right to Jim's nose.

Jim hadn't stood a chance.

When Blair came out of his room, it was to find Jim naked, rubbing the catnip over his body and sniffing it. He was completely entranced with the dried green herb.

Blair was completely entranced with Jim. He'd caught flashes of his friend's – and secret lust/love object's – body over the years, but he'd never actually seen Jim naked.

Damn, he'd been missing out.

But there was no time to drool over his best friend's naked body; Jim seemed to react to the catnip like a drug, and Blair wasn't about to let Jim OD just because he wanted to ogle him.

Striding forward, he eased up behind his friend and snatched the now only half-full bag of catnip away from Jim. The Sentinel zeroed in on the motion, and by extension, him; but he didn't seem inclined to fight for the bag, too immersed in his new…addiction.

After putting the catnip in a Ziploc bag and stashing it underneath the sink, he went to grab the bull by the horns – or rather, the panther by the tail.

Jim was sitting right where he'd left him, still purring over the catnip. Blair thought over his options and decided that trying to talk Jim out of it would be his best shot.

It probably wouldn't work, but it was the only thing that had at least a chance.

"Jim?" Blair called.

Jim flicked a glazed glance his way, but didn't stop his catnip bath.

"Jim, you need to put the catnip down," Blair said, keeping his tone calm and gentle. He walked closer to his friend, hoping proximity would help Jim snap out of it.

This time when Jim's eyes focused on Blair, they stayed there for a moment. Jim even moved closer to Blair, leaving the catnip behind.

Blair had stuck out one hand in an instinctive 'talk the crazed person/animal down' gesture, and was surprised when Jim's head butted against it, the Sentinel's purring increasing at the contact.

_Huh?_ Blair thought. Jim really was acting like a big cat. Kneeling down on the floor, Blair said, "Jim, Jim, **please** snap out of it, Big Guy." He ran his hand in a petting motion over the Sentinel's head, hoping the soothing motion combined with his voice would work where his voice alone had failed.

At the sound of his Guide's voice, Jim's head shot up again. When those dazed blue eyes locked with his own, Blair was shocked to see predatory intent in them.

"Jim?" Blair asked, wary but not really afraid. This was **Jim**, after all, and even if the Sentinel was out of it, Jim would never hurt him.

Of course, that didn't mean Jim wouldn't do **other** things to him…

…like lick his hand, most likely to taste the remnants of the catnip he'd been working with on his skin.

…like pounce on him once he was sure he'd gotten all the catnip off, and start **kissing** him and rubbing his rampant erection against Blair's own rapidly hardening length.

…like make love to him on the living room floor, Jim's verbal skills coming online enough to keep up a constant stream of babble about how much he loved him, wanted him, **needed** him – even if it wasn't in complete sentences.

…like completely and utterly exhaust him with the aforementioned activities, so much so that neither of them woke up until noon the next day.

…like awaken him with soft kisses, and give him a soft smile when he woke up, all the while looking at him with his eyes so full of love that Blair knew whatever happened, they'd be okay.


	5. Addicted To What!

**Addicted To…What?!**

**

* * *

**

"Ellison, Sandburg! My office!" Simon barked, before heading back to his desk.

Blair jumped up from his perch on Jim's desk and followed his partner into the captain's office, closing the door behind him. "What's up, Simon?" he asked.

Simon scowled at him for the blatant disuse of his title before saying, "I've got a new case for you. Seems someone was murdered down at PetsMart."

Blair exchanged a glance with Jim before shaking his head and saying, "Simon, uh, we…"

"Can't do it," Jim said, pointedly looking anywhere but at his captain as he said it.

"And why not?" Simon demanded.

"It's a Sentinel thing, Simon," Blair said, a nervous tension running through his voice.

The captain sighed. "You know," Simon mused, "I'm getting the strangest feeling of déjà moo."

"What's that?" Jim asked.

"The feeling that I've heard this bullshit before."

Jim, having prepared to defend his refusal, was taken aback by his Captain's non sequitur. His lips kept trying to quirk up at the sides. Ruthlessly forcing them to stay down, he said, "Sir?"

Simon held out his hand. "No, really, every time you two do something weird, you always tell me, 'It's a Sentinel thing.' Well, I'm getting tired of it."

"But it **is** a Sentinel thing," Jim insisted stridently.

Simon cut him off before he could work up a good head of steam. "Well, that may be, but how many more 'Sentinel things' are going to pop up? When are they going to end?" He gave Blair a pointed look.

Blowing out a loud breath, the Guide said, "How should I know? Burton's monograph wasn't exactly a 'Sentinel Care' manual, you know."

Simon sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose in exhaustion. "I know, kid, it's just...I don't know how much more of this I can take."

Jim snorted. He let out a low growl before stopping abruptly, chagrined. "How much more **you** can take?"

Shaking his head, Simon said, "I know, I know, it's worse for you. I think." Giving his detective a stern glance, he asked, "And what the hell is it **this** time, anyway? Why the hell can't you take this case?"

"I'd never be able to leave the pet store," Jim said almost inaudibly.

His eyebrows climbing into his nonexistent hairline, Simon asked, "And why is that? How bad could the smells be?"

"It's not the smells," Blair put in. "It has to do with the jaguar being Jim's spirit animal."

Jim growled and gave his partner a quelling look before turning away.

After a few moments, Simon finally ran out of patience. "What in the hell is so bad about a pet store that you can't stand to go there?"

Jim mumbled something under his breath, and Simon, thinking he hadn't heard right, squeaked out, "What?! You're kidding, right? Talk about bullshit…"

Jim gritted his teeth and hissed out, "I know we put you through a lot, Simon. But at least **you're** not the one who's addicted to catnip."


	6. Midnight Visits

**Midnight Visits**

* * *

**Whump**!

One eye cracking open, Jim glared at the furry offender that had disturbed his restful – and extremely comfortable now that he had his sexy bundle of bedtoy, otherwise known as Blair Jacob Sandburg, with him – sleep.

"Felicity, you are **really** not living up to your name right now," Jim groused, softly so as not to wake his lover.

Her only response? A rumbling purr.

Jim sighed.

Carefully reaching out with one hand, he pushed the cat off the edge of the bed and waited. Whenever this happened – her invading his and Blair's bed at o'shit-thirty in the morning – she'd jump right back up on the bed several times before finally going away.

And when she didn't go away…

Sure enough, not ten seconds after Jim had pushed her off the bed, she was back on the mattress, nose to nose with him, her whiskers twitching.

"I'm getting too old for this," Jim grumbled. "Either that, or it's too late." Grabbing Felicity one-handed, he stretched and set her down on the floor. He shooed her away, only to have her climb up the blanket that had moved with his shifting body to drape down to the floor.

Heaving a sigh, Jim once more shoved her to the floor, this time accompanying his actions with a, "Scat, cat!" and a sound thump to her rear end.

Giving him an offended scowl, she hissed and clawed her way back onto the bed.

Jim groaned and scrubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Fine, Felicity," he mumbled. "You can stay."

She purred in satisfaction, giving him a gentle head butt before she climbed over Jim's body to settled between him and Blair in the warm hollow of cotton blankets.

Smiling semi-tolerantly at the pleased cat, Jim settled back in to sleep.

Once Jim's breathing evened out, Blair opened his eyes. He snickered quietly to himself as he eyed the dozing cat curled up against his chest. "You are **so** weak, Ellison. And so whipped. Don't even **try** and tell me you only put up with her for me."


	7. Revelations Of A Sassy Cat

**Revelations Of A Sassy Cat**

* * *

**Ding-Dong! **

"Could you get that, Chief?" Jim called down the stairs. "I've finally cornered Felicity in the closet and I'm about to put her in the cage."

"Sure, Jim," Blair answered, tone normal volume since he knew Jim could hear him without his having to raise his voice.

Undoing the deadbolt, Blair threw open the door, blinking as he caught sight of the handsome redhead standing in the doorway.

"Mom!" Blair cried joyfully, scooping the petite woman up in his arms.

"Hello, sweetie," Naomi said happily, squeezing him back.

"This is a surprise," Blair said as he ushered her inside.

"A good one, I hope," Naomi said playfully.

Blair grinned. "Of course. It's good to see you."

"Afternoon, Naomi," Jim greeted pleasantly as he clattered down the stairs, Felicity secure inside the pet carrier in his arms.

"Hello, Jim," Naomi replied, pulling him into a one-armed hug – the one arm not encumbered by his feline passenger. Pulling back from the impromptu embrace, she blinked at the cage occupying the detective's other arm and smiled. "Ah, I see you decided to keep Sass," she said in a tone of satisfaction.

"Sass?" Jim asked, sending a confused glance down to the cat in the cage.

Naomi blinked at him. "The cat." She pointed at the pile of marmalade-colored fur curled up in a miserable lump inside the gray carrier cage. "But why is she caged up?" She frowned.

"We're taking her to the vet to get spayed," Blair answered for his lover. "We should've had it done when she was six months old, but we were busy with a complicated case."

Naomi made a noise of acknowledgement as she bent down to stroke Felicity's head through the wire mesh door of he cage.

"Naomi…how did you know about Felicity?" Jim asked.

"Felicity?" Naomi looked curiously at the cat she was petting, albeit with only one finger. "Oh, you renamed her?"

"We weren't aware she had any other name," Blair answered for them both. "I found her in a basket on our doorstep about five months ago, and we decided to keep her instead of finding another home for her."

Comprehension dawned on Jim's face. "Did **you** leave her for us, Naomi?" he asked.

"Yes," Naomi answered readily. "I was staying at a Buddhist retreat in San Francisco and found her there. I had planned to stop by and actually ask you to look after her, or at least find her a home, but a friend of mine in Seattle had an emergency, so I just left her here." Giving the mostly-grown kitten one final stroke on its striped head, she rose to her feet, lavender dress swirling around her like royal robes as she turned to face the two men, her brow furrowed in a frown. "Didn't you see the note?"

"Note?" Jim asked, exchanging a befuddled look with his lover.

Blair's own brow furrowed in thought, then he groaned and slapped his forehead in realization. "So **that's** what those pieces of paper were."

"Paper?" Jim asked, becoming more confused by the minute.

Nodding, Blair said, "Yeah, there were torn up bits of paper – so small it could've been confetti – in the bottom of the basket. I wasn't sure what it was, but I saw that Felicity had chewed on it."

Naomi chuckled. "Sassafras must've torn the note up before you got a chance to look at it," she realized.

Jim's brows knitted together in disbelief. "Sassafras?" he asked incredulously.

Naomi nodded, smiling. "Yes, I named her that because I found her in the herb garden out back of the retreat," she explained.

"In the sassafras, I take it?" Blair said, a grin breaking out across his face.

"Yes. She was nibbling on it, in fact." Naomi chuckled.

Shaking his head, Jim picked up the pet carrier. "Well, we named her Felicity," he said. "Although, at the moment, she doesn't seem to be too happy with me." Felicity hissed and turned up her nose at him in a feline pout. She made a huffing noise and turned her back on him, slinking around in the cage until her tail was facing him, her opinion of her incarceration made quite clear by her actions. Jim gave a lopsided smile and sighed as he lowered the cage so he didn't have to continue looking at the cat's ass.

Naomi arched one scarlet brow. "You were expecting her to like being caged? Or perhaps to look forward to being spayed?"

"Well…no," Jim admitted with no small amount of reluctance. "But she doesn't have to be so…" he gestured to the cage, Felicity's lashing tail the only visible part of her.

"Aggrieved? Put out? Offended? Affronted?" Blair offered. "Stop me when I've hit on it."

Naomi snorted. "Actually, I think she's just living up to her original name," she joked.

Blair raised one dark eyebrow and squinted at his mother. "Oh? How's that?" he asked carefully, entirely sure he was going to regret asking, but knowing that the curiosity would kill him as sure as any cat – especially theirs.

Naomi giggled. "I think the words Blair offered were good ones, but there's one that would fit better." At their questioning looks, she continued, "Well, she's being one sassy cat, isn't she?"

Jim and Blair exchanged looks, smiles and finally laughter. Felicity, Sassafras, or Sassy, she was still their cat. One marmalade minx, with a sassy attitude to rival that of any smart ass.


	8. Cat Into The Bag

**Cat Into The Bag**

* * *

_The 'Baggler' advertisement Blair reads is a real one. Since Wonderburger doesn't exist in the 'Real World', it comes from the back of a Burger King sack. Pretend that in the 'Love And Felicity' universe Burger King and Wonderburger are one and the same, okay?_

* * *

"Oh, this is **priceless**!" Blair crowed.

"What is, Chief?" Jim asked.

"The advertisement on the back of this Wonderburger bag." Blair gestured to the brown paper sack sitting on the kitchen counter.

Focusing his sight on the red and white box emblazoned on the side of the sack, Jim read, "Official…**Baggler **Procedure?"

"Yeah," Blair replied. "Here, I'll read it to you." He picked up the bag and turned the ad to face him, quoting the humorous paper commercial on its surface. "French fries that have attempted to escape from their container only to strand themselves in the bottom of the bag are called 'bagglers.' Bagglers are fair game. The first to open the bag and retrieve the baggler gets to eat the baggler. Therefore, it is in one's best interest to be the keeper of the bag."

Jim snorted. "And you say **I** have a Wonderburger addiction, Chief. The guy who came up with that spiel must be **obsessed**."

"Either that, or he's gluttonous," Blair replied, setting the sack back down on the counter. He opened the cabinet doors to get out plates and rummaged in the drawers underneath for a fork for his salad.

"And speaking of gluttons…" Jim gestured to the semi-plump feline – eight months of living with them, and she had started to resemble a white-striped Garfield – who had just hopped up onto the counter and was nosing her way around the paper sack. "Felicity must have caught the scent of food." Jim huffed a laugh as he watched her tumble the paper sack over, not at all startled when it came down on top of her. She knew where her meals came from.

"Grease, more like." Blair frowned as he tuned around. Spying Felicity with her front half buried in the bag, he snorted. "Well, I guess we know what's going to happen to all the bagglers, don't we, Big Guy?" Rustling sounds greeted his pronouncement as Felicity pawed through the contents of the bag.

Jim nodded, a smile lurking around his lips as he watched the cat back out of the bag, a mouthful of fries clenched tightly between her teeth. Once she'd vacated the brown paper receptacle, she set to eating them with feline gusto, all the while keeping one eye on the two humans to make sure they didn't try to take away her 'prize' that she'd hunted for. "Yep; it appears Felicity is determined to be the 'keeper of the bag'."

"The cat's **definitely** out of the bag on that one," Blair agreed, rolling his eyes.

"Let's hope she leaves us our entrees, huh?" Jim said, only half-joking.

"Let's hope."


	9. Lint

**Lint**

* * *

_For those of you unfamiliar with the Christian religion, Lent is the forty-day period before Easter, excluding Sundays. It begins on Ash Wednesday and ends on Holy Saturday. In the year 2005, those dates are February 9th, and March 26th, respectively. Generally, those who observe Lent will abstain from a particular vice (cigarettes, alcohol) or something they find enjoyable (chocolate, television) as a sign of repentance of their sins._

_Maybe Jim should give up Wonderburger, and Blair his algae shakes and they can just lick whipped cream and chocolate sauce off each other's bodies for six weeks, hmm-)_

* * *

The phone ringing tore Jim away from his glaring match with his computer. It had been making that inaudible-to-everyone-but-Sentinels noise that he knew preceded the Blue Screen of Death and he had been hoping to stare it down.

As his eyes flickered momentarily from the computer to the ringing phone and back again, he grimaced as he noted the color change on his monitor.

No such luck.

Heaving a sigh, he reached out with his left hand to reboot his computer while his right snagged the phone from its cradle. "Ellison!" he barked into the phone, his characteristic gruffness being compounded by his anger at his rebellious piece of hard- and software.

"Jim?" came the tentative answer of his partner's voice.

Purposely trying to rein in his ire, Jim said warmly, "Hey, Chief. What's up?"

Anxiety forgotten as quickly as it had come – Blair was familiar with his partner's mercurial moods – Blair asked, "Jim, have you seen Felicity?"

Jim blinked. "Chief, I'm at the station. What would Felicity be doing **here**?" he asked reasonably, with not a little sarcasm in his voice.

"Because I can't find her anywhere, and I thought maybe she snuck out the door while we were…er…'saying goodbye' and hid in your truck," Blair replied.

Jim's cheeks warmed as he remember that enthusiastic kiss – and grope. As the heat in his face died down, a light bulb went on in his mind. He was reluctant to say it, but he had an idea of where she might have gone. "I haven't seen her anywhere, Chief, but if the door was left open…" and now that he thought back, it had been, "maybe she snuck downstairs."

"To the laundry room," Blair pronounced with thinly-veiled dread.

"Why don't you go check?" Jim suggested. "I'll hold on 'till you get back."

Blair sighed over the line. "Be right back, man." There was a clatter and Blair set the phone's handset on something – extending his hearing and correlating all the echoes as he had when he was blind, Jim was almost certain it was the kitchen island – and then the clatter of him heading down the stairs carried to him.

Reeling in his hearing back to normal volume, Jim settled in to wait, hoping against hope Blair wouldn't find Felicity in the laundry room. It wasn't that he wanted her to be lost, but if she **was **in the laundry room…

Damnit. It was a double-edged sword. A lose-lose situation. Either way, they were screwed.

Only a few minutes later, Blair was back on the phone, breathing heavily as if he'd run up the stairs.

_Or just climbed up them with Felicity in his arms,_ Jim thought, knowing that Felicity was a rather heavy feline.

"You found her, I take it?" Jim asked dryly when the sound of a loud, plaintive 'Meerow!' echoed tinnily across the line.

"Yeah, I did," Blair replied grimly.

"What happened?" Jim asked.

"Miss Marks from 109 left her laundry in the dryer – with the drier door open – while she went to get her mail. Apparently Felicity snuck into it," Blair explained. "Not only does the poor girl have fur on all her clothing, but now Felicity is the proud possessor of a nice thick coat of lint," Blair said, disgust clear in his voice.

Jim sighed. "Damn. I was hoping she hadn't managed to get into one of the driers."

"Me, too. It's going to take forever to comb out her fur," Blair lamented, which Jim knew well. When they'd taken Felicity to get her spayed, it had been discovered that she wasn't just a marmalade-colored tabby. She did, in fact, have a large helping of Maine Coon in her ancestry; possibly one of her parents was a purebred. This hadn't become a problem until the winter, when her coat had grown out several inches longer and had almost tripled its thickness. In order to prevent hairballs and excessive shedding – Hah! was Jim's opinion on that last – they had to brush her fur twice a week. It could take anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour depending on how tangled her fur was.

Lint only compounded the problem.

"Sorry I can't be there to help you, Chief," Jim told his lover, trying to his best to sound sincere. Combing lint out of Felicity's fur was extremely hard on his senses and he would cheerfully take a forty-eight hour long stakeout over having to complete the chore.

"No, you're not," Blair griped, and slammed down the phone.

Jim winced. Hanging up the phone with a sigh – he knew that it would take a lot of cuddling to get Blair out of his funk of being forced to tackle Felicity's fur single-handedly – Jim turned back to his just-restarted computer only to find his boss staring at him from over the monitor.

"Who is Felicity?" Simon asked, idly fiddling with an unlit cigar in his hands. "And what was she doing inside a clothes drier?"

"Felicity is our cat," Jim replied with an air of suppressed irritation. He frowned as Simon appeared curious, then remembered that he and Sandburg had never actually mentioned her.

"Really? How long've you had her?" Simon asked with interest.

"About nine months," Jim replied.

One eyebrow rising into his nonexistent hairline, Simon said innocently, "Reeeaaally now? And you didn't think to tell your friends about your newest roommate?" He gave his detective a pointed glare.

Jim grimaced. "Don't start with me, Simon; I'm not in the mood."

Megan had been watching the whole exchange from her desk next and now found she could stay a silent observer no longer. "Oh?" she piped up. "My granny always said that happiness was a warm cat in your lap."

Jim snorted. _Maybe so, but…_ "And frustration is a Maine Coon who loves taking naps in the clothes drier," he shot back.

Simon and Megan looked uncomprehending. "Drier lint," Jim explained succinctly. Comprehension dawned like twin sunrises on the faces of his two friends. "Yeah, it takes forever to comb it out of her fur," he elucidated, unconsciously using Blair's' words from his earlier phone call. "I've told Sandburg not to let her anywhere near the laundry room," he added, exasperation clear in his voice. "But I've been thinking we should have named her Houdini, she's such a good escape artist."

"This is the reason why I'm glad Daryl only wanted pet fish," Simon said, a mirthful smile on his face. "No problems other than making sure they're fed regularly. No muss, no fuss."

"All cats aren't that high maintenance," Megan told them.

Jim raised a brow. "Really?" Not that they'd be trading Felicity in for a newer model or anything, but…

She grinned cheekily. "Nope, the Sphinx breed is hairless."

Jim rolled his eyes and groaned. "Might as well get a Chihuahua."

"But they don't purr," Megan argued.

"Neither would I if I was naked all the time," Jim volleyed back. "Poor cats must freeze their tails off."

Simon snorted and shook his head. Catching sight of the bullpen's calendar out of the corner of his eye, he chuckled as he noted that tomorrow was the second Wednesday in February. Gesturing towards the all-purpose timekeeper, Simon said, "Guess we should hope Felicity isn't Jewish like Sandburg."

"Why?" Megan and Jim asked in unison.

"That way maybe Felicity will give up sleeping the clothes drier for 'Lent', eh?" Simon offered, his booming laugh echoing through the bullpen.

Megan groaned at the bad pun. Jim just rolled his eyes.

"Maybe **you** should give up trying to make jokes, Simon," the Sentinel told his boss.

"Hmmph! See if I give you any time off for good behavior…" Simon grumbled as he headed back to his office.

Under his breath, Jim said, "Noooo problem. As long as Blair's combing out her fur, I don't **want** to be home."

Megan just shook her head at the follies of men and went back to work.


	10. What's In A Name?

**What's In A Name?**

* * *

_What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other word would smell as sweet. – Juliet Capulet to Romeo Montague_

**William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Scene II**

* * *

A soft thump on the kitchen table heralded Felicity's arrival in Blair's impromptu workspace. He took a moment from his typing to greet her with a pat to her head and some absentminded words.

"Hey, Fleecy," Blair said, using the nickname he'd come up with for their pet. Jim had jokingly called her 'Felix' once, after the black and white character in that old cartoon, but – despite the fact that 'felix' actually meant 'cat' in Latin – the appellation hadn't stuck. Now the Sentinel mostly called her Flame; mostly for her reddish fur, but almost for her fiery temper.

She'd scratched up Jim's arm but good when he'd made an idle comment one day; he'd said that she was getting as fat as Garfield. She had put on a little weight – Wonderburger French fries definitely weren't good for her girlish figure, and since she always ended up being 'keeper of the bag' she got more than her fair share – but wasn't nearly as obese as the famous orange-striped feline.

Simon, once he'd met her – after their infamous PetsMart case; he'd demanded an explanation for how they could know that Jim was allergic to catnip, and decided to show off their newest family member – suggested the moniker of 'fussbudget' when she sneezed at his outstretched hand. Apparently her sensitive feline nose didn't appreciate the smell of a fine cigar.

That nickname, too, didn't stick; Felicity was not fussy, picky or any other word that inhabited the realm of choosy. She, like Jim, had a preference for Wonderburger's fast food cuisine, but other than that seemed content to eat whatever was put in front of her.

Naomi had called her 'Sassy' and she was; 'Fidget' also worked, since she seemed to have more energy than even Blair did, and he'd been compared to the Energizer Bunny.

But none of them – Jim, Blair, Simon, Naomi – could agree on what the **best** nickname for Felicity was. They normally stuck with Felicity – endearments aside, that was her official name – so as not to incite arguments, but it sure would be nice to be able to come to a consensus.

One hand coming up to scratch behind her ears, Blair kept the other working double time on the keyboard, his ponderings on names always in the back of his mind as he put the finishing touches on an article for the Anthropology Department's monthly newsletter.

Pressing 'print', Blair was so lost in his musings he didn't realize he'd begun mumbling aloud. "A name, a name…"

"What's that, Chief?" Jim asked, looking up from the Jack Kerouac novel he'd been perusing on the couch.

"Huh?" Blair looked up, startled. Realizing he'd been thinking out loud, he said, "Oh, it's nothing really.

A lift of Jim's eyebrow said, 'Go on.'

"Well, I was just thinking about the right nickname for Felicity," Blair said sheepishly. "What do you think is the best one?"

Jim thought for a moment, then pronounced, "Ours."

Blair blinked, then gave his lover a wide grin. "Sounds good, man," he agreed. Whatever they decided to call her – as if Felicity wasn't good enough! – she was still their cat. No name could change that.


	11. Over The Mistletoe

**Over The Mistletoe**

* * *

**Plink!**

Blair groaned.

Jim sighed and hung his head.

Felicity batted the round red ball she'd just knocked down off the Christmas tree across the floor. It hit the green ball she'd knocked down before the red one, which then bounced off the gold one she'd knocked down before **that**, before finally coming to stop a scant few inches away from the very first ornament she'd knocked down, a miniature gilt menorah.

"Maybe getting a full-size Christmas tree instead of one of those little desktop jobs like we usually do wasn't such a good idea," Blair finally conceded.

Cocking an eyebrow at his lover, Jim said, voice deadpan, "No, really, Chief?"

Glaring at Jim with annoyance, Blair said, "Well, if you'd gone with my suggestion to keep the ornaments away from the bottom foot of the tree, they wouldn't be low enough for her to reach."

Felicity batted down a silver ball and thwapped it towards the gold one. It bounced back and forth between it and the wall three times before finally spinning to a stop.

"If you hadn't bought so many of those colored balls, I might have found room to hang them higher," Jim returned.

A plastic Disney ornament of Buzz Lightyear and Sheriff Woody was pawed at, but it refused to be budged. Felicity moved on to one of the candycanes.

"If you didn't have a Charlie Brown complex when it came to trees, the fir would be tall enough to have room for all of them," Blair shot back heatedly.

Felicity finally managed to knock down one of the candycanes adorning the tree. She sniffed at the striped treat, then sneezed as the overpowering smell of peppermint and cinnamon invaded her sensitive nostrils. She scampered away towards the stairs, and, looking up, found another decoration that caught her interest.

"If you'd let me eat more of the candycanes, there'd be room on our perfectly sized tree," Jim returned, voice even and sharp enough to cut glass.

"Mmrow," Felicity said, causing the two men to look down. There Felicity sat, with the sprig of mistletoe from above the loft steps nested firmly between her paws, as she was firmly between them.

A few moments passed in contemplation of the ridiculousness of their argument. Blair gave a little snort, and Jim's lips quirked up.

"We're being silly, huh, Big Guy," Blair said.

"A pair of fools, Chief," Jim agreed.

"Meerow!" Felicity hissed imperiously, staring at them pointedly.

"Kiss and make-up?" they said together. Both of them broke out into matching grins and leaned forward to share a kiss **over** the mistletoe.

Felicity gave a little cat smile and went off to play with her shiny new toys – leaving the mistletoe behind on the floor.

Not that Jim and Blair would need it.


	12. Of Mice And Men

**Of Mice And Men**

* * *

Seagulls were flying circles over the skylight, screeching with raucous abandon as they drifted on the cool morning breezes. Other birds were chattering from their perches on nearby electrical wires and tenements, a joyous song of spring's dawning. Weekend traffic sped by past the loft's window at a leisurely pace, as their occupants headed out for fun and frolic. The city of Cascade slowly awakened to a new day, the warm spring sun rising into the pale blue sky.

Blair Sandburg, sleeping peacefully wrapped up in a sheet, two blankets and three pillows, was not aware of any of that. He had decided, after proctoring four midterms in one week and only finishing the grading the previous Friday evening, that he would be sleeping in this Saturday. To that end, he had borrowed Jim's white noise earplugs and was able to ignore the muffled sounds of the waking city easily. He was only distantly aware of Felicity purring gently in the crook between his arms and one of the pillows, her ears twitching at the noises of the nearby birds. A stiff breeze from off the oceanfront made the curtains flap against the window frame, like a whisper of gossamer sunshine.

The aforementioned earplugs were, however, only capable of blocking out normal, mundane, everyday sounds such as those already mentioned. Anything else…

**CLANG!**

…got through.

The effect was instantaneous – Blair jerked awake, letting out a yell as he crashed butt-first to the floor, still tangled up in the sheet and one of the blankets, his pillow landing on top of his head. Felicity hissed like mad and darted under the sheets to hide from the loud noise, royally pissed off at having her morning snooze disturbed. Blair sat up in shock, legs still tangled in the bed coverings as he looked around in desperation. "What the hell?" he said groggily. He blinked as he only felt the reverberations of his words instead of hearing them, before he remembered the earplugs.

"DAMN MICE!"

_Oh._

Blair sighed and grumbled, pulling out the earplugs and tossing them into the bedside table drawer. Everything sounded too loud, even Felicity's low-pitched growling from under the bed. Grimacing, Blair detangled himself from the sheets, tripping over his pillow as he tried to rise to his feet. Finally managing it on the third try, he yawned and stretched, feeling his spine crack in that satisfying manner…and then headed downstairs to grab the panther by the tail and get Jim to take a breather from his self-imposed extermination mission.

One of these days Jim would manage to catch the mouse in their apartment. Either that, or the mouse's short life would end. But until then, Blair – and hopefully Felicity – would do their best to see that their apartment didn't end up like that factory in the movie _Mouse Hunt_.


End file.
